


The Northern Rose

by Tubbylita



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tubbylita/pseuds/Tubbylita
Summary: "We need to trust each other. We have so many enemies now..."
Jon will be tested on how far he's willing to trust Sansa.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling that Sansa will be thrown under the bus again next season so I'll just make up my own story on what I wish will happen in season 7 and 8 and beyond.

There was a commotion at the courtyard.

Jon sees Pod, Tormund and several guards running after a man dressed in black. Sweetrobin is currently crying in the arms of Maester Wolkan. And in the middle of the yard are Davos and Sansa, looking down at a man lying in the snow.

Jon heard Sansa say to Davos, "He can't hurt us now."

Davos just stared at Sansa.

As Jon approached, he saw the face of the man lying down at their feet. It was Petyr Baelish, the Lord Protector of the Vale, the guardian of Robert Arryn. His eyes are wide open, along with his mouth. And there's a large gapping hole in his neck where copious amount of blood gushes.

"Burn him," Sansa ordered.

"Yes, my Lady," Davos replied. He bowed his head slightly at her, then at Jon, before leaving.

Jon looks at Sansa, standing tall and beautiful in her black dress. Her head held high like a queen, proud and regal. Her lovely red hair, braided in Northern style, is in sharp contrast to the paleness of her face. He noticed her right hand is bloody, holding a dagger that Jon believes was used to poke the hole in Littlefinger's neck.

Sansa did not look at Jon. She turned away to leave the courtyard.

Jon turned his gaze back to the dead man beneath him. Petyr is swimming in his blood. There's so much blood that the snow surrounding him has already turned red. So much blood flowing, that it appears to be following Sansa as she heads back to the castle.

_"Even in death, you can't let go of her,"_ Jon thought grimly. 

Jon looked as Petyr's face turned blue. The blood has finally stopped trickling at his neck.

It's too late when he realized Petyr's blood is not following Sansa. He saw Sansa collapsing, as if in slow motion. She's falling face down on the snow. Jon ran as fast as he could, but he couldn't reach her in time.

Jon knelt beside Sansa and turned her unconscious body on his lap. Only then did he notice a stab wound on Sansa's side, where blood is rushing out. He pressed his hand over the wound in attempt to stop the flow.

"HELP!" he shouted. "Somebody help us!!!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just how I would like to see Sansa and Jon. They're probably gonna be out of character, specially with where I think the showrunners are taking them. And I haven't read the books too, just the snippets from Sansa metas. So basically, I'm just winging this. Don't continue if you're expecting some amazing JonSa fic as I am not really a writer. English is not even my primary language so sorry in advance for the errors. This is "read at your own risk" fic. It might just be nothing but a waste of your time.

_"We need to trust each other. We have so many enemies now..."_

_"Winter is here..."_

_"He's my King, from this day, until his last day..."_

_"The King in the North! The King in the North!..."_

 

Jon looked at the faces of the Lords at the hall, proclaiming him as the King in the North. He was so overwhelmed, he could not say a word.

 _"This isn't real. It must be a dream. It must!"_ he thinks. But even in his wildest dreams he never thought of being proclaimed a king. Though he used to dream of being the Lord of Winterfell.

Which reminded him of the Lady sitting by his side.

Sansa.

The true born daughter of Eddard Stark. The one who decided to take back their home. The one who woke him from the stupor of lassitude and indifference after his resurrection. The one who procured the Knights of the Vale, who saved the battle he nearly lost.

She is the one person who truly brought him back to life.

With the Northern Lords exalting him, he doesn't know what to expect from his half-sister. Indifference? Resentment? Jealousy? He's almost afraid to look in her direction.

One thing he didn't expect to see was her smile. _Is that a smile of happiness? Reassurance? Pride? Is she proud of him?_ He dare not think.

But it's her smile, more than anything else, that warmed his heart and filled him with joy. He knew right there and then he would denounce whatever title the Lords gave him had Sansa disapproved. All that matters is her opinion. All that matters is her acceptance.

Then he remembered.

_“I’m not a Stark.”_

_“You are, to me.”_

Those words mean more to him than the shouts declaring him King.

Jon was so overcame with euphoria that he never noticed the sole man in the hall who's not chanting with the crowd. He did not see the knowing look Petyr Baelish gave Sansa, and the worry and fear that crossed her face.

 

The celebration continued way past midnight, so Sansa excused herself and took her leave. Jon followed soon after. He urged Sansa to sleep in the Lord's chamber while he retired to the room next to her.

Jon woke up to the sound of her scream. He got up his bed immediately and went out of his room. He saw the guards outside Sansa's chamber looking unsure of what to do. Lady Brienne also came out of her bedroom, still in her night shift, but with a sword in her hand.

They barged into Sansa's room and found her sitting and crying alone on her bed. Jon sat beside her and hugged her tightly as he stroked her hair gently.

"I'm here, Sansa," he whispered to her ear. "It's just a dream. You're safe now. No one will harm you again. I'm here."

Sansa continued to sob on his shoulder. He can feel his shift getting wet with tears but he did not release his hold. Lady Brienne and the guards left the two of them in the room, and closed the door.

Several minutes passed before her tears ceased. "Your shirt is wet," Sansa hiccupped as she moved from his embrace. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Jon placed his hands on Sansa's face and brushed her tears away.

Sansa suddenly felt self-conscious. She's wearing only a thin white night dress and they are alone in the room. "Jon, I'm good now. You don't have to stay. You should go back to your room."

He looked at her for a long time before nodding. He slowly stood up and walked out the door.

Sansa got out of her bed as well, as soon as the door closed. She knows she won't be able to go back to sleep now.

She wore her cloak and took a seat on the chair beside the window. She looked at the sky, it is so clear she could see The Ice Dragon constellation from where she sits. She closed her eyes as she felt the cold breeze of winter fanning her face.

 

Jon went back to his chamber and as he lie down his bed, his mind keeps going back to Sansa. He wonders if she has fallen asleep. It's been a while since she had a nightmare. The last time it happened was in Castle Black.

He remembers their first night together after reclaiming Winterfell...

 

He saw Sansa at the solar, sitting at the couch near the fireplace with his direwolf lying beside her, its head on her lap. She runs her fingers through Ghost's fur as she stares at the flame.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice him approaching, not until Ghost got up and sat near the hearth. She looked at him then, her eyes appear troubled, sad. Lost. 

"Ramsey's gone," she spoke.

He knows what happened to her husband.

"I fed him to his dogs," Sansa continued. "I watched as his hound devoured him."

He didn't say anything. He just sat by her side and placed his hand over hers.

"He told me I can't kill him. That he's part of me now," she added. She looked at the scars in his hand.

She was silent for a while. Then she said, "I guess he's right..."

"No, he isn't!" Jon tightened his grip on her. "You're nothing like him!"

Sansa returned her gaze to the flames. "You know what Ramsey enjoys?" she asked. "He enjoys tormenting people.

"He would sometimes take people to the forest, then release his hounds to find them. He would strike them with arrows, or have them flayed, or cut to pieces, or burned alive. He would feed them to his dogs, he doesn't like to waste good meat.

"He killed his father. He killed his brother. He killed his men.

"We're so alike..."

"Sansa..." Jon started.

"I killed father..."

"Don't..." He warned.

"I killed Rickon..."

"No!" 

"I killed my husband, the same way he kills people..."

"STOP!!! STOP IT!!!" he shouted.

"And I enjoyed it... I smiled at his death. I want to dance with joy..."

"Sansa please..." he begs.

"And I nearly killed you, the only family I have left..." Sansa continued as if she didn't hear him speak.

"You didn't!!!" Jon is now gripping her shoulders and shaking her to stop. "You didn't, Sansa. I'm here! I'm alive!" Jon's voice is trembling.

"Your army was decimated because of me..."

"No!!! Sansa, please... I beg you. Stop this! Stop this please!" he said, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes as he hugged her tightly.

"I'm a monster," she uttered, defeated.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the grammar and spelling errors.


End file.
